


Collections

by Darkestwolfx



Series: March Prompt a Day 2020 [14]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen, Home on the Range - Freeform, family memories, photo albums
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23249464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkestwolfx/pseuds/Darkestwolfx
Summary: He was in a few of them. A little bundle of clothes with chubby cheeks, bright eyes and a big smile.
Series: March Prompt a Day 2020 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660813
Kudos: 19





	Collections

**Author's Note:**

> It was probably about time I wrote about Alan for one of these prompts.

**14: Collections**

Summary: He was in a few of them. A little bundle of clothes with chubby cheeks, bright eyes and a big smile.

Words: 675

Spoilers: _'Home on the Range'_ [S2E20].

* * *

Photo albums.

Two words and yet… they hurt.

He was in a few of them. A little bundle of clothes with chubby cheeks, bright eyes and a big smile.

He was in a few of them.

But he didn't really _remember_ them.

John had the memory of a badger… or a… whatever it was that was meant to remember things. John could look at an album and know from the cover what years it covered; he could look at a photo and delve into the whole story behind it.

And then Scott and Virgil and Gordon would all remember their own additions and contribute to the tale and there would be smiles or laughter or tears.

But Alan sat there, nodding along with no real reaction and nothing much to say.

Often these little moments filled in some blanks for him, but it never changed the fact that the memory technically wasn't _his._

It would never be _his_ , it was always going to be little more than a story, a fragment of his life that was so far away – too far to touch. His fingers could skim the surface, but that was all it would ever be. A fragment, a touch to the surface of a very large ocean.

The family collection of photo albums stopped for a time. It stopped during the year their mother died.

There was a new one, one they'd started to reinstate the tradition, to make memories, but for Alan it was always going to be too late to an extent. He couldn't jump back into the past, he couldn't make his younger self remember all those things you didn't hold onto when you were two and three, and everything in the world was new to you. You remembered vibrant things, new things, not always the things which would later value to you the most.

You didn't think about the collections memories would become in photo albums.

Their Mother had thought about that. But it didn't change the fact he couldn't remember. Being here, being at her home, well… it made the pain ten times worse.

"And then Gordon fell off-"

"I jumped off with a lack of grace, Virgil."

"-and was lucky not to whack his head."

"Yeah, you couldn't have afford to lose anymore braincells!"

"Hey, Scott, not fair!"

Life wasn't all that fair.

"Virgil, look."

"Oh John, that's a classic!"

"Show me."

"Scott, why are you laughing? What is it? Oh, no, no, rip that out, that is mortifying!"

"That is you though… right Gordon?"

"Oh I am mortified. Literally the ground can swallow me. _Now._ "

"You might have to wait a while for that. This area isn't prone to sink holes."

"Ahhh! This is a nightmare. Why did Mum keep that."

"Making memories."

"If you say that again, Virgil-"

"I think it's a good collection."

Yes. It was.

Alan was thankful to have it, don't mistake him. He liked to look at the images. He liked to see his brothers and his parents and himself, all of them looking far happier than they had been in recent years when they lost Dad, and those past when they lost mum. Even Grandma appeared in some of them, considerably less grey, as Gordon had once pointed out to a whack around the ear.

He was thankful to have it.

That didn't mean he couldn't be bitter about it at the same time.

This was their collection of memories… but to Alan, it didn't really feel like _his._

He suspected nothing would ever change that.

All he had to now was make a collection out of what was to come, and maybe let go of the anger at not remembering a lot of what had been.

There was a future waiting out there.

He planned to grab it.

"Let's get the photo albums out!"

"Oh NO!"

"Oh yes, Gordon!"

That didn't mean it ever hurt any less.

Those two words…

And seeing his young, smiling face looking back at him… and not remembering _why_ the smile was there.


End file.
